An old story about True Magic: Love
by claudiaEB
Summary: Legolas "becomes" a human being when he seeks revenge for his father's death in a land far away from Middle Earth...where Elves, dwarves, magic and Middle Earth are stories..myths. A story of burning passion, desire and no happy ending. READ!!PG-13
1. Prolouge & Remembering

Title: "An old Story about True Magic: Love" Author: Star-AP Email:claudia_120@hotmail.com  
  
Summary: The plot continues where The Return of The King ends. Legolas is returning home... or the now destroyed and murdered Kingdom of Mirkwood, Green Wood the Great. In his desperation Legolas seeks for revenge, he is filled of hatred and sorrow. And when he finds out by Lord Elrond in Rivendell that the slaughters are Men from a far away land he and Gandalf take off to seek justice, to seek peace in the tumult of the Elf's soul. They walk over ground, and cross over sea to reach the green land far way from Middle Earth. But no fairy tales walk on this green ground, no magic and myths are alive. And no Elf exists here. Legolas becomes human, one of Men.  
  
And in seek for the source of his hatred he finds instead.  
  
Note: This is my first Lord of the Rings story. I'm really fascinated of Legolas character in the books so I've really tried to do him justice in this story.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't know own any of J.R.R Tolkien's characters. Only my own =D.  
  
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*  
  
Prologue  
  
He turned his back to the ocean. His warm tears followed the contours of his delicate face. The sparkling blue eyes stared down at his hands, at the  
  
white palms and fingers. The silver moon's cascading light illuminated every previously familiar trace on his hands. But he didn't recognise them.  
  
The only familiar thing was the pendulum of wood in his left hand.  
  
A breaking wave against the cliff silenced the cry that burst from his  
  
trembling lips, as he fell down to his knees. His tears, his howl of despair trembled in the air, causing the sleeping birds on their branches  
  
to flutter their wings in their sleep.  
  
The forest before him woke up.  
  
He fell down to his hands, and let his agony consume every inch of his  
  
body, let every tear run along his face. His heart broke into a million pieces, and he let it shatter. He finally let his sorrow run through his  
  
soul.  
  
Tired he laid down on the damp grass, shivering in the caressing hands of  
  
the wind. He closed his eyes, trying not to dream, trying to forget.  
  
Consoled of the thought that the sun would soon rise over the tops of the spruces and that the morning would bring a single ray of hope to his heart, he loosened his tight grip of the pendulum. Hearing, the night's promise that there was a tomorrow, that he would continue living and that the sea  
  
would be waiting for him and call for him when it was time.  
  
He began to doze off, but before he let his soul wander in the gardens of dreams he whispered in the mild breeze: "And you thought that I couldn't  
  
cry"  
  
There was no response.  
  
Colourful images danced in his mind, making him remember from the very beginning. It was a story, a story with a beginning and an end, told by his own words and described by his memories. A story where he discovered the  
  
true meaning of life, no matter if you are a dwarf, man or and elf. No matter if you are as real as the waves that break against the solid rocks, or just an imagination. No matter if you live somewhere where magic don't  
  
exist or in fantasy land where there end of the rainbow really exists.  
  
"Elves can't love", she laughed.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
"Because Elves don't exist"  
  
"But I love you"  
  
"And you're also standing in front of me, kissing me"  
  
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
*~*~*~*"Remembering" *~*~*~*  
  
And so they rode for several days.  
  
Only seeing the sun's gleam fading away over the horizon, when darkness crept nearer from the star embellished sky in their way over the Rohan landscape, and laying over hills and mountains. Gazing upon its crimson rays, interlaced with flaming yellow traces, scattering all over the sky, forming the shape of a dragon. Seeing, when climbing over the highest mountain, the feeble morning sun, slowly rising over Hithaeglir's white summits, lightning up glades in the Fangorn forest with rising majestic trees almost touching the morning sky.  
  
It was finally their wandering home. The end after battlefields and an honourable victory, after farewells and sorrows, and their company through North Middle-Earth was the simplicity and beauty of nature.  
  
They rode in silence most of the time, only hearing the horse's rhythmical trot, and letting memories fill their minds as they neared their destiny; their home. It was not entirely grief that poisoned their hearts as they remembered the swords' gleaming steel blades in the ocean of fighting warriors, the spearing arrows cascading among elves and humans against Sauron's vicious and monstrous servants, and the axes' subdued blows against flesh.  
  
The air smelled of fresh cinnamon and soothing sage, making them slightly forget. The dangling auburn leaves from the crooked trees, brushed and caressed their faces as the small gravel path went in many curves through the forest, down and up the hills, past trees like rising birches, old oaks with emerald leaves in the sun's gleam, and maples with falling brown nuts. Past bushes like soft pink twigs, round and crimson red raspberries and cowberries with branches filled with blooming green leaves. Past small and thin brooks, calm rippling rivers and deep blue lakes with surfaces glittering like thousands of diamonds in the morning sun.  
  
The elf had his head straight up and his glinting sky blue eyes were wide open and clear like the brown hawk from above, flying in circles. His bright voice sang silently in the golden lightness from the fading sun, which gleam crept in between the flowering branches and illuminated their way.  
  
" *~* Thandül isén Forthändaíl *~* "  
  
*~* sel'e hemionely siriar *~*  
  
*~* tulinte I quettar *~*  
  
*~* tuliente I quettar *~*  
  
*~* Dormo I lir thirolâui *~*  
  
*~* Sel'e hernionerly siriar *~*  
  
The lonely voice in the end of the wood of Trollshaws, the soothing Elven words, which were as smooth as the careful wind, filled their lungs with the sense of the simplicity of peace. But to the fair one the words made him only remind him that when the new day would approach, when yet another sunrise would be noticed between the green leaves on the high trees, yet another Goodbye would be said. And it tore his heart apart to think that it may be the last time he saw his dwarf friend whom he'd grown to appreciate and love, yet another friendship to be left.  
  
After a while of silence from the short one the dwarf sighed, becoming quite bored of the endless travel on the brown horse, as it kept plodding on the small path through branches, past trees and over roots. So just when the elf was about to sing another but more cheerful song about long forgotten times, the dwarf spoke:  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf " he said." What will be the first thing you will do when you come home, if I may ask?"  
  
Legolas did not answer at first. His eyes gleamed like gold in the fading light of the sinking sun and became distanced." The first thing I shall do is go to Nariûndin íd Anë, where the lost souls of our people rest in peace, a beautiful graveyard hidden by shining green draperies of star formed leaves of two ancient rising beeches and there," he paused, closing his eyes as he his features softened" I shall visit my mother and honour her. Then I shall see my father at his throne in the lightest and most beautiful cave you have ever seen in the east side of Mirkwood, and let him welcome me home, and before the sun fades away I shall run through the highest and most stunning trees, holding a lightened torch in the welcoming darkness and feel the wind run along my side, and only then my friend, only then I shall feel at home". Legolas opened his eyes and a faint sorrow was visible across his face.  
  
There was silence. "Home indeed," the dwarf sighed, shaking his head" Never have I thought of how much my heart desires to look upon the golden gate, with the two stunning Nûbrien diamonds on each side, leading into the mountains of Ered Luin. To gaze upon the beauty of our grandiose halls."  
  
Legolas smiled faintly. "It has been a long time indeed". His clean face turned to the dwarf. "For both of us. Coming home will be the same as returning to faint memories of another life, a now long forgotten time"  
  
Gimli nodded grimly, but his melancholy thoughts soon vanished among the soft air that begun to blow through branches and leaves.  
  
The elf smiled at his friend, before turning his glowing blue eyes to the setting sun, seeing its evening blush melt together with the distanced snowy summits of Hithaeglir's mountains.  
  
" *~* Thandül, we still walk through the shadows of long *~* "  
  
*~* The moon is singing, the night still mere young *~*  
  
*~* There is hope for a new day, but no end *~*  
  
*~* There is hope for a new day, but no end *~*  
  
*~* Soon we will wake up, and all this will be gone *~*  
  
*~* The moon is singing, the night still mere young *~*  
  
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
And so night approached.  
  
The dwarf had made a bed out of green moss and grey lichen for himself, his head now resting on the brown, old log. Sleeping pleasantly as the hours of the night grew old.  
  
Legolas, had his eyes open, gazing at the many stars on the dark mantle above, twinkling and sparkling as they embellished not only the night sky though also the golden moon. Tiredness and sleep did not blindfold his clear eyes which shone as reflectors, bringing their own beauty and light. He counted the stars, as he so many times had done when he only was a child, a child with a warm desire to see the rest of Middle- Earth, to see what so few has seen and so many dreamt of.  
  
He put his arms under his head, leaning more against the brown trunk of the old oak tree. He was sitting on one of its high broad branches, several meters from the ground, the view of the wood of Trollshawn lying open before his eyes, revealing its magic and beauty. Legolas smirked, yes indeed beauty, but now he missed Mirkwood's own stunning surrounding. He wanted to see the familiar trees, paths and growth.  
  
Many years had passed since he had seen his woods, many years of adventure and tasks that had prevented him from coming home. But now it was time to return, to bring back memories which felt as distanced as the shining moon above him.  
  
The wood was breathing, every grass straw and every leaf whispered carefully in the darkness. The trees were moving, a noise of creaking spreading in the cool wind. The ringing bells of the flowers sent the tepid night lovely singing voices accompanied by the hums of the smallest animals.  
  
Legolas listened carefully, closing his eyes as he did so. Enjoying the music of nature to his ears, as he sank into a dreaming doze.  
  
But something was no longer right.  
  
The elf snatched his eyes widely open, all his senses alert to the disturbance of the earlier peace. The trees were complaining. Legolas could hear their cries as their leaves brushed against trunks, like whipping lashes. He rose up and took one step forward, leaning down on the left leg as he focused to listen something unusual besides the trees' blowing leafs against leafs, and the runnel's faint rippling water.  
  
And then he heard it, the horse's load and fast trot, galloping through the fields of trees, and neighing like cries of haunting ghosts.  
  
His elf eyes traced over and among the dark silhouettes of the rising trees, as deep as the wood let him, and along the fine line of the running water, until they stopped. Further away jumped a tall shadow over the wilder brook near the small waterfall, and stood still.  
  
At that exact moment the moon shone on the shape and revealed what darkness hid from the elf's eyes, and what Legolas saw made hatred deep inside his very soul come alive. On the creatures helmet was the white hand of Saruman.  
  
In a distant Legolas leaped gracefully down to the ground, grabbing his quiver and bow near the trunk, and disappearing after casting the sleeping dwarf a last glance.  
  
He jumped from rock to rock, climbed from tree to tree down the hill, like the agile cat silently and nimbly as it neared its goal. The branches filled with soft green leaves caressed his face as he padded over roots and grass, the whole time with all his senses open. The darkness of the woods surrounded him from every direction, and at that moment he couldn't be anymore thankful of the clouds on the night sky which hid the golden moon and its illumination.  
  
He reached the brook, the same side as the other visitor, his shining eyes tracing over every shadow in the open glade. He was indeed safe, but his hidden place behind a broad beech with hanging branches and dangling red leaves, couldn't help hide the disappointment, but most of all astonishment as he gasped surprised when seeing the black horse standing alone by the drooping clear waterfall. The rider was gone.  
  
Silently he raised his bow, and strung an arrow far away back, his eyes still open as he took a step forward, careful to not step anywhere besides the tall dark shadows.  
  
Legolas peered his ears, trying to catch another sound than the waterfall's running and current water. In spite of the dangerous situation he was in, he couldn't help to notice the beauty of the open glade by the brook. Down the gushing waterfall cascaded the clear water, before breaking into millions of drops, and calmly yet again running over the green ground, sparkling like pure silver in the moon light. The old beeches and oaks were loosely entangled in green ivy, which blew softly in the cool wind and the air was filled with the smell from the trees, a smooth sense of leaves.  
  
Legolas took yet another step nearer the horse but stopped suddenly as the coal black mare arched its head and gave away a loud whinny as it stared at him with its brown eyes. The elf held his breath, brushing the feathers on the end of the arrow with his thumb as the bowstring tightened. Waiting.  
  
"Céntey?", a clear voice said in the silent night.  
  
Immediately Legolas turned the arrow to the cascading waterfall, in the exact moment as the moon appeared behind the dark clouds. An ocean of light swam in the open glade, revealing Legolas standing by the brook, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he held the strung bowstring with the timber arrow backwards, ready to attack.  
  
He heard a gasp, as a slender and soaking wet figure jumped out through the cascading water, arms over the head, protecting it. "Don't shoot!"  
  
Legolas stood still for a moment as his glowing eyes traced over the creature in front of him. For an instant he was bewildered and surprised, as the intensive stare began to understand. Though In spite of the soaked pants, and too large sweater of rough wool with bloodstains, which was ripped off to far beneath the collarbone revealing the white skin, and the jet black wet hair glued to the white shoulders, it was very clear that the creature, who still had it's arms over the head, avoiding looking into the elf eyes; was a young maiden.  
  
There was a complete silence. Even the crystal drops ceased to fall.  
  
Legolas lowered his bow, ever so slowly. His sky blue eyes still on the shivering creature. "Who are you?" he said, his voice echoing clear and deep among the many trees which surrounded them.  
  
She hesitated to give him an answer; he could see it by the trembling shoulders and hear it by the heavy breaths.  
  
But no words came out.  
  
Legolas glanced at the helmet by the bank, the white mark shining in the moonlight." You are a servant of Saruman, aren't you?" He sounded severely, almost angry as he watched her lower down her arms looking him straight into the raven blue eyes, as she tilted her head up.  
  
Pain. A tangible pain crushed his heart as he stared back at those dark pools of grief.  
  
Over the open glade laid a silver-blue shimmer, gloomily it crept over every tree, grass straw and drop of water, entangling it with its magical lustre.  
  
"And why should you even care? Cannot I also walk into this woods, or is it only you ranger who can do so?"  
  
Legolas was slightly surprised by the mock in her voice, as he wided his eyes, still staring at the maiden. He felt unease. "I believe that it is you who is unarmed?"  
  
She glanced at the mare, which neighed silently almost in a whispering tone. The black horse trudged over to its rider. The woman smiled welcoming at the animal, caressing its soft mane as the horse nuzzled her soaked black hair.  
  
Legolas had his eyes glued on the girl, waiting for an answer. Her light brown eyes of the colour of amber traced carefully over the humble animal face, and to the strange fair man with the abnormal radiating and indescribable beauty standing in the lightness of the cascading moonlight.  
  
"I cannot answer any of your questions. Let me ride away and you shall never see me again"  
  
Legolas took a step forward, but quickly she stepped back, as she pressed herself against the solid rock. The cool sparkling drops in the luminosity of the moon began to trail along her oval shape face, down her neck. She was afraid. It was very clear, even though she tried to hide it by looking away.  
  
Thin cobwebs hanged from one branch to another like transparent curtains. The elf pushed away the soft silk as he took yet another step.  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot do so", Legolas answered tensed, seeing the white hand gripping the brown rein in the darkness" If you are a servant of Saruman, I presume that whatever reason you are out here in this woods It cannot be for a good cause, to anyone"  
  
The girl bit her lip, lowering down her head and gazing instead intensively at the tall shadow on the ground. The elf could see a faint hesitation and a slight touch of fear in the pale face with vaguely trembling red lips." Then you have to kill me, though I cannot stay here as your prisoner and waste my time even more". And with that she jumped on the black horse as fast as the wind, screaming at it to trot and shutting her eyes, waiting for the sharp arrow to drill her unshielded back.  
  
But none came.  
  
Legolas lowered down his bow, seeing the riding shadow disappear among the curtains of leaves. His eyes went over to a patch of grass were a pair of long brown boots, a gleaming sword, a shield of red copper, and the helmet were lying. And not far away, on a grey stone by the water, laid an open brown bag, containing old crisp bread.  
  
His sky blue eyes went over to the place where she was now gone, knowing as he whispered silently in the sad breeze; that she wouldn't survive.  
  
In response a brown owl howled. Legolas stared at the dazzling gems from the tallest branch of the nearest oak tree. Wandering clouds suddenly clouded the moon yet again, and he headed back over the dark hill. Knowing that the dwarf would wake up not ever knowing what happened during the night.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
To be continue.  
  
Have any comments, thoughts, flames? Review! I know that my grammar is nothing to brag about, but I'm trying to become better every time, and have a great beta reader.  
  
PS. Next chapter, will be much more!!! This is just an "introduction"..AND PS. again.Thandul is NOT Thranduil.. 


	2. Hands of Death

Chapter 2  
  
"Hands of death over the Elves"  
  
***  
  
They were nearing the mountain of Weathertop after a long ride. The noon sun lay high up in the clear sky as they rode through the land of Arnor. On the horizon, the summits of the lofty mountains were visible as they stood close together. The dwarf gazed longingly at the familiar peaks, bringing his hand up to his chest.  
  
"My cousin Boro," he whispered respectfully.  
  
Legolas turned his eyes from the mountain to the dwarf as he smiled. "Are you sure that you want to be left here?" he asked politely, knowing what the dwarf would say.  
  
"Yes, quite positive, as I have said. My cousin will be delighted to see me," he said, grinning like the merry sun above, "and together we will wander as true dwarfs of the hearts of our mountains; with sweat and on foot we will walk to my mountains in the west of Eriador, as true royalty."  
  
The dwarf sighed with delight, caressing the haft of his axe, which hung on the belt around his hanging belly. The afternoon sun shone on them as the white stallion bearing the two companions passed two giant rocks, side by side, like monuments welcoming to visitors who neared the foot of the Weathertop.  
  
"Yes of course, my friend," Legolas replied after a while, his eyes wandering over the white haze that had begun to sink down the rough slopes, "It seems now that our journey ends here, Master Gimli."  
  
The dwarf nodded importantly, as Arod neighed quietly when the elf tugged on the reins. Legolas dismounted first, his clear gaze tracing over the lofty mountains, which now seemed to swim in a white sea of mist. The elf turned gracefully around, and smiled when he saw the dwarf jump with much effort from the tall horse.  
  
"Well, Gimli, I presume that it is here that we shall say our Farewells and Good lucks," Legolas said softly, noticing the surprised look on the hairy face.  
  
"But will you not follow me inside, and at least eat something?" the dwarf asked stupidly. "My cousin will welcome you with much warmth, though I cannot promise you that the rest of- well you are still an elf. But - "  
  
"No, child." Legolas held out a hand. "I have to return to my home also."  
  
"If there is anything that I can do to change-" Gimli continued, feeling the blackness of guilt cloud his heart.  
  
"No, Gimli," Legolas smiled, his eyes wandering over the flaming gold melting together with the plainness of the poor ground. "I must return as soon as possible, hopefully in three sunrises."  
  
Gimli held quiet. "I shall see you again," the dwarf began after a moment of silence. "When the nights grow old I shall take a group of my kin to Aglarond, and become Lord of the Glittering Caves, which has captured my admiration. And there I hope to be seeing you again, my old friend"  
  
Legolas nodded." I believe that our paths will crossed another time; this is not the last time we will see each other." He paused, a faint sorrow lying over his eyes like a visible lace of crystal. "I have much to thank you Gimli, son of Gloin," he continued, kneeling down so that the dwarf was looking down at him slightly. "Because of you I have understood that the differences between Elves and dwarfs do not lie in our hearts. There we are equal"  
  
"And I agree with you, my elf friend"  
  
Legolas smiled, and a moment when words were not exchanged lay between them like the dense fog that crept down from the white summits.  
  
The elf stood up, still smiling. He grasped the reins of Arod, and turned around to Gimli.  
  
Legolas held out a hand. The dwarf gripped it hesitantly, but when he met the mourning eyes, the intimidation vanished, and he brought the surprised elf into a warm hug of months of friendship. Soon their Good Byes were said again as the pats on the backs quieted down. As the elf leaped nimbly on to the young stallion, the dwarf quickly dried a tear in the left eye corner, coughing as he did so. Legolas tugged on the rein, the clear eyes dissolving in the blueness of the mantle above. "Farewell my friend Gimli, son Of Glóin!"  
  
And with waving a hand the white stallion turned around, the elf rode towards the melting red sun. His journey was now nearly ended; he was finally riding home.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
The wind whispered hoarsely in the fresh air of a recent shower; glinting stars shone with all their brilliance, illuminating the dark sky with their radiance. In the young night, the moon sang. No wake eyes could be prevented from gazing with wonder at the precious stone, its silver rays blessing Middle-earth with its touch. Even in the depths of the mountains the dwarfs could sense the soothing light. Elven eyes fell upon then beauty of the sky, and the hearts of men melted in its tenderness.  
  
But in the comfort of this gemstone could not calm the frightened mind, nor did its light guide through the shadows of the trees. In the poisoned heart, in the mourning heartbeats, the warmth of the moon became the judge over death, a watching guard on the dark rooftop. Still the hours of darkness were young, the promise of the brittle rays in the morning still a dream.  
  
The peaceful environment became that of war as the black mare rode with all its strength through the dense forest, trying to escape from the shadows of death that hid behind every tree. Pale hands gripped tighter on the reins. The coldness of the endless rain begun to vanish, but still the drenched rider trembled. The heat from the boiling forehead spread down neck to the opened wound on the left collarbone, and down to the bare feet.   
  
Failing in trying to focus on the crooked road, the amber eyes held closed, their usual quickness hidden by the fever veil. The tired head rested on the soft mane, the warmth of the humble animal comforting the aching heart.  
  
But the woods were ending; from a distance the mare could already discern the plain welcoming them with its simplicity. But still there was a long road left, over land and water.  
  
Still she wasn't home.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
In the stunning panorama of a flaming red sunset rode a white stallion, racing with the wind, its mane flying. The rider's sky blue eyes gleamed in the light the sinking sun, focusing on the rising trees before him.  
  
Two beeches entangled in soft green ivy welcomed him with their dangling old branches as he rode past the entrance into the dark forest of Mirkwood. It was dark, the merry sun soon shielded by the spreading green crowns of the trees. Legolas jumped nimbly from the horse, his senses tracing over the silence between the dancing leaves, the singing birds, and the quiet whispers of the trees' old spirits.  
  
It was when he took the first step, tugging on the rein to make the white stallion walk by his side, that he knew that something was wrong. His feet made no prints on the flat ground as the path went deeper into the forest, the last ray of the golden sun swallowed by the glinting dark mantle. Darkness had fallen. The way through Mirkwood is indeed not easy, but for the Green People whose home lies on the highest branches of the oldest beeches it would have not mattered if their clear eyes were blindfolded when walking through these woods.  
  
Legolas indeed remembered his home; he remembered every tree and every branch. But as he now found himself deeper among the dense beeches and spruces, his mind became filled with a feeling of unfamiliarity. He no longer looked further than his torch's fluttering light on the road. With every step he took, his heart beat faster. The silence in the forest was complete.  
  
Dead spiders covered the ground, and dry blood stained the leaves and roots. The elf's fair face showed a slight fear. His heart warned him of what his other senses could not. His regular breath became heavier as he forced the rearing stallion to move on.  
  
When he heard the steams' gushing water, wild and fast, he knew that he was close. In the darkness he could discern the long bridge he had crossed so often in long forgotten times. The guiding red torches leading to the King's gate had been replaced by empty of the shadows.  
  
The stallion reared again as the dark water approached, the brown eyes wandering from side to side, the panic increasing in the animal's face.  
  
"Luthlülia narmeria," Legolas whispered in the darkness, feeling the horse's tangible fear spread to his fingertips. The horse would not cross the water.  
  
With one last glance at the fair stallion, he walked over the gangly bridge. His solemn eyes were focused on the slope on the far side, leading into the entrance of the cave. Two beeches saluted him, their leaves dipping to the surface of the steam, when he reached the passage into the King's Halls.  
  
Legolas did not hesitate when he opened the grandiose gate. In spite his hammering heart, he entered into the darkness, with only the light of his torch guiding his way through the deep corridors. His mouth felt dry, and his mind never once wandered back to merry times of singing in these tunnels.  
  
As he neared the Hall, corridors became and wider and more beautiful, with patterns of glinting rocks. He held his breath, knowing what he would find when he entered his father's throne room, knowing in his bleeding heart what awaited him. But he kept moving.  
  
It was a tremendous room, breathtaking in both size and beauty. Down the walls ran crystal water, cascading down to a pond surrounding the room. There were several marble pillars holding up the ceiling, which was embellished by hanging diamond-formed emeralds. The floor was covered of leaves, the colour varying from the deepest red to the darkest brown; the colours of autumn. The throne stood in the center.  
  
His steps echoed in the end of the last tunnel. His right hand kept a tight grip on his bow, the other held the bowstring ready. He entered.  
  
The bow fell down to the ground. The arrow fell with it, pointing towards the throne, lit by moonlight from an opening in the ceiling.  
  
He fell helplessly down to his knees. Blue eyes were covered with a shining lace of tears as they wandered over the bloodstained leaves covering the throne and finally fell upon a limp body, the dead hand still holding on to the carved oak staff.  
  
By the foot of the seat lay the head of the king of Mirkwood, the elven eyes open and covered by the hand of death.  
  
He did not even blink as he stared upon his father, looking straight into the clear blue eyes the same colour as his own. But his soul was crying, roaring in agony, even though the luminous tears never ran silently down his cheeks.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
"We knew that this moment would come", she whispered hoarsely, as she softly caressed the black mane. The horse neighed in response, and nuzzled her black hair. She stared into the animal's eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "You will be fine"  
  
The dark waves became more violent, breaking against the sharp rocks. Her eyes wandered over the open sea, its eternity dissolving with the starry sky. She couldn't look at the meek animal face at that moment; she couldn't meet the trustful eyes that had followed her as long as she could remember. She breathed in, filling her lungs with the freshness of the serene sea, trying to lose herself in the blackness of the deep, to suffocate the intense feelings in her bleeding heart.  
  
She couldn't let herself cry; she would not shed yet another tear. But she couldn't turn around, for her already destroyed heart would shatter into a million pieces.  
  
"Good Bye," she whispered.  
  
And she began to run, run as fast as she could, ignoring the whinnying behind her. She gasped for air as she felt the heat from her forehead drum in her ears, hearing from a distant the clattering hooves following her. Her bare foot scratched against the pointy stones and the wound on her left collarbone began to ache intensely. The meager strength she had left drained by the second.  
  
Before her, on the pitch black sea reflecting the beaming stars, stood the small boat by the bank, bobbing on the moving water.  
  
She jumped. Jumped over air, over the shallow blackness, and tumbled over in the boat, hitting her head on the rudder. Ignoring the striking pain in her temple she gripped the oars, feeling her hands shake as she dipped the stiff oars in the water.  
  
"Go away Centéy! You cannot come home, you cannot come with me!" she cried, devastated as she gazed upon the frightened horse battling against the waves, trying to follow its rider. The animal's eyes gleamed like one of the dazzling gemstones on the ebony arch of the sky, the whole time darting to the bobbing boat as it began to disappear into the black mist.  
  
"Go back" The girl stood still. Her whispered words faded away in the cool wind. She could no longer see through the thick fog. She swallowed hard, briskly brushing away the warm tears. Centéy would be all right. The spirit of the animal was filled of strength and courage, of goodness and fearless.  
  
Something she hadn't.  
  
Soon the cloudy view of the soaring mountains could be discerned through the hazy veil of the sea. The morning sun was rising, painting the horizon with melted gold, welcoming the new day. Her light brown eyes surveyed the soft slopes and the green richness  
  
She was home.  
  
And then she began to cry.  
  
*~*~**~*~*  
  
Hm, I'm a bit sceptical about this story.What do you think? 


End file.
